


one fine mother clucker

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Cas' Cocks [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Apple Pie Life, Baker Castiel (Supernatural), Cas Owns Chickens, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Cats, Chicken Herder Castiel, Chickens, Dogs, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, M/M, Neighbors, Pie, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: After getting caught yelling at his neighbor's chicken, Dean goes over to have a drink with him. Things just sort of escalate from there.





	one fine mother clucker

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here's the next installment of Cas' Cocks! I'm hoping to do another fic, but I have some other obligations to take care of first. I hope you enjoy it!

Dean was halfway through tugging on a pair of faded jeans when he realized that he probably looked like hell. And he probably smelled even worse.

He hadn't bothered to shower or shave or even brush his teeth before charging outside to scream at his neighbor's rooster ― Cyril or Cyrus or something ― so he highly doubted he smelled like a rose.

And thanks to all the extra hours he had been putting in at the garage meant he probably reeked of motor oil and gasoline. All in all, not a very pleasant fragrance.

At least, probably not for someone who raised chickens and grew apple trees in his own backyard.

He considered taking a quick shower, just a perfunctory scrub down to off whatever grease and sweat he might still have on him from his last shift. But he figured that would take too long.

Long enough for Cas to notice that he wasn't immediately heading over. The last thing Dean wanted to do was give up the opportunity to get to know his new neighbor a little more.

Besides, taking a shower would make him look desperate. Wouldn't it?

Jesus Christ, he felt like a virgin on prom night. All overeager and pathetically nervous.

He had to remind himself that it was just a drink with his neighbor. It wasn't a hookup or a date or a lifetime commitment to only ever drink with his neighbor.

He also had to remind himself that he hadn't been a virgin on prom night. No, that ship had sailed almost two years prior in the backseat of his baby.

Instead of a full-on shower, he decided to put on an almost excessive amount of deodorant. And he may have used a teensy tiny bit of cologne.

Not enough to be desperate, though. Just enough to make sure he smelled good. That was all.

He fussed with his hair in the bathroom mirror for a while, trying to get it somewhere between presentably neat and charmingly disheveled. It took some time but eventually, he was happy with it.

He brushed his teeth afterwards, twice, to get rid of his disgusting morning breath. Just because it was the polite thing to do.

Not because he had any crazy ideas about kissing his neighbor or anything. Nope. None at all.

Shoving all nonexistent thoughts of backing his neighbor up against a wall and kissing him stupid out of his head, Dean threw on a flannel. It wasn't cold enough to do it up so he left it unbuttoned, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

He pulled on his cleanest pair of boots, ones that weren't smudged with grease and falling apart at the soles, and took another whiff of his pits before heading out.

He was halfway up Cas' front walk, a dark cobblestone walkway lined by flower beds filled with marigolds and chrysanthemums, when realized that it was four thirty in the morning. Way too early for a beer.

Maybe he could ask Cas for a cup of coffee instead. Or would that be overstepping?

Cas really didn't owe him anything. For Christ's sake, Dean had yelled at his clearly beloved chicken just because he was a little grumpy.

If anything, the only thing Cas owed him was an ass-kicking. And, sure, Dean had been in his share of fights he highly doubted he would win one against Cas.

He'd be too unwilling to bruise that pretty face to actually fight back. Too reluctant to turn those pretty blue eyes black to land a good punch.

Dean tried his best to tamp down on those niggling thoughts as he climbed the stairs of Cas' front porch. Now wasn't the time for hesitation or second thoughts.

Taking a steeling breath, he scratched the back of his neck and knocked on Cas' front door. He heard a dog bark again, this time realizing it was coming from inside Cas' house.

Through the door, he could hear the telltale clicking of dull claws on hardwood along with the jingle of tags on a collar as the barking grew louder. The barks were deep and gruff, not unlike Cas' own voice, making Dean conjure up images of intimidating Rottweilers or pit bulls.

But when the door swung open Dean found himself faced with a giant hellhound masquerading as a house pet. A giant hellhound that immediately hopped up on him.

If he had thought the dog, and he used that term very loosely, was huge on four legs it was freaking gigantic on two. Towering over his six foot two, the shaggy gray beast panted in his face, front legs braced on his shoulders as it lapped at his cheeks.

To keep from falling flat on his ass and giving the canine Goliath a chance to eat him, he leaned back against the porch railing. He winced when he heard a flower pot shatter as he flailed around in search of something to bolster himself with.

God, he really knew how to make a great first impression. Yelling at chickens, breaking flower pots. He was just brilliant.

Fortunately, he was spared from making an even bigger idiot of himself by Cas who let out a clearly frustrated huff. The tags on the dog's collar rattled as a hand curled around the drooling behemoth's collar.

His voice firm, leaving absolutely no room for argument or disobedience, Cas sternly instructed, "Mycroft.  _ Down." _

With a stubborn whine, the dog obeyed. The relentless licking of Dean's face ceased and the dog hopped down.

Suddenly the picture of innocence with its big brown eyes and pink tongue lolling out of its mouth, the dog took a seat beside Cas. Its slightly curved tail was wagging, whacking the back of Cas' leg.

"My apologies," Cas said, sounding just as exasperated as he looked. That wasn't to say he didn't look good. Because he did. Just a bit frazzled.

He stroked a hand over the dog's head, fingers combing through dark fur. Scratching behind the dog's left ear, he announced, "Mycroft can get a bit overexcited. It's not very often that I have guests."

"No problem, man," Dean replied with a negligent shrug. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers coming away wet with dog drool.

Speaking of which, he glanced dubiously at the suddenly docile dog. Without it jumping up on him, he got a chance to actually get a good look at it.

It was a wolfhound. A huge one, at that. Even sitting, the dog was unbelievably huge, coming up to Cas' waist.

Its dark gray fur was somewhat long and wiry. There was a splotch of white on its chest.

Now that it wasn't trying to crush him or lick him to death, Dean had to admit the dog was kind of cute. In an intimidating, I-could-totally-eat-you-if-I-wanted-to sort of way.

Smiling down at the dog, he stretched out his hand for the dog to sniff. He didn't think it would be too wise to just launch right into petting the damn thing.

When it didn't rip off his arm, he reached down to scratch under the dog's chin. As the dog tipped its head up to give Dean better access to its chin, he greeted, "Hey, buddy."

Looking over at Cas who was smiling to himself, Dean had the good graces to look contrite. Glancing over his shoulder at the shattered flower pot on the front walk, dark soil scattered over cobblestone, he apologized, "Uh, sorry bout the flower pot, man."

"No need for apologies," Cas assured him, his smile widening. Shrugging, he easily dismissed it, "I'll just clean it up later."

Dean was tempted to offer to clean it up himself, his parents having ingrained the 'you break it, you fix it' mentality in him when he very young. But he figured that might be a little weird.

It still would have been less weird, and less awkward, than the long stretch of silence that followed Cas' last statement. They ended up just staring at each other for several long moments like something out of a Hallmark movie before Cas finally cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to come in?" Cas blurted in one breath, gesturing clumsily at the front door. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed open the door, giving Dean a peek into his house.

The dog padded in first, leading the way. Its claws clicked out a steady rhythm on the hardwood floors.

Cas motioned for Dean to enter before him, flashing him a bright grin. Not wanting to be an ungrateful guest, Dean stepped inside, taking full advantage of the fact that he was inside Cas' house to look around a bit.

The house opened directly into the living room that boasted dark hardwood floors and off-white walls. The furnishing was sparse, only a small couch and an old Chesterfield armchair arranged around the fireplace.

A TV was mounted on the mantle, surrounded by a few unlit candles and a couple picture frames. Dean couldn't make out what exactly the pictures were of, assuming they were family photos like the ones he had scattered around his own home.

An extremely comfy looking red throw blanket was tossed over the back of the couch. A fluffy gray Maine Coon was curled up on the blanket, snoring softly.

Dean briefly wondered just how many animals Cas had. A flock of chickens, a giant dog, a huge fluffy cat.

What was next? A fucking guinea pig?

Apparently not. Apparently what was next was another cat, judging from Cas' comment of, "That's D'Artagnan. His brother Tybalt is around here somewhere."

Dean turned back to Cas, who was closing the front door, eyes narrowed. Glancing between the snoozing cat and the wolfhound who was in the process of plopping down on a dog bed in the corner, Dean ventured, "Mycroft? D'Artagnan?  _ Tybalt? _ Am I sensing a theme here?"

"I have to admit, I may have gone overboard with the literary themed names," Cas confessed, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck. God, he was cute when he was embarrassed, his cheeks all pink and flushed.

He wanted to see more of it. A lot more of it. Preferably in bed. While he kissed down his chest and nipped at his neck.

While he unbuttoned that chambray shirt and tugged down those loose sweatpants. While he acquainted himself with miles of Cas' bare skin. While he―

Dean had to cut himself off there because that trail of thought wasn't conducive to anything. Just to change the subject, he started, "Uh, about that drink? I―"

"Oh, god. I feel like an idiot," Cas announced, burying his face in his hands. Shaking his head, he dropped his hands back down to his sides, looking over at Dean with a thoroughly embarrassed expression. "I realized, somewhat belatedly, that it's much too early for a beer. I made a pot of coffee, instead. I hope that's alright."

"Perfect," Dean answered immediately, beaming at Cas who seemed to flush an even deeper shade of pink. It was ridiculously endearing, like the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled.

He gestured for Dean to follow him into the kitchen, rounding the back of the couch to enter the other room. Thanks to the open floor plan, the only noticeable separation of the rooms was the change in flooring.

Dark hardwood transitioned into light limestone tiles, the walls the same off-white as the living room. The cabinets were white, complemented by pale countertops and stainless steel appliances.

Another cat, this time a brown Maine Coon that glared at Dean as he entered the kitchen, was sprawled out on the small kitchen table, its back to the window. He assumed that one was Tybalt.

With no end in sight to the cat's incessant glaring, Dean didn't think it would be too smart to try and pet it. Instead, he leaned his hip against the side of the table, turning his head to watch Cas as he grabbed two mugs from the cabinet over the sink.

He kept his back to Dean as he poured steaming coffee into both mugs before setting aside the coffee pot. Opening the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of creamer, Cas turned back to Dean, inquiring, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black," Dean answered, earning a raised brow from Cas. He just shrugged, accepting the mug Cas handed him as he started fixing his own cup of coffee.

By the time he was done there was probably more sugar and creamer in his mug than actual coffee. Stirring his creamer and sugar and splash of coffee, Cas nodded his head towards the back door, a large sliding glass door that led to a furnished back porch.

"Would you like to sit outside?" He asked, taking a sip of coffee. A soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips, he offered, "I can introduce you to Balthazar."

Dean snorted into his coffee. Flicking his eyes up to meet Cas', he agreed, "Sure. Can't wait to meet 'em."

Mug in hand, Cas crossed the kitchen to pull open the sliding glass door, motioning for Dean to go first. The sound of multiple chickens clucking greeted him as he stepped out onto the porch.

There was a couple of cushioned chairs set across from a wicker loveseat and a side table. It was a pretty nice setup, probably perfect for watching the sun rise over the back fence.

While Cas lingered by the door, whistling and clicking his tongue to entice the dog into following them outside, probably so the dog could do its business, Dean took the liberty of glancing the yard.

On one side of the yard, the white rooster that had been making Dean's mornings a living hell was wandering around with the flock of hens, and another rooster. It seemed much more calm and laidback now that it wasn't screaming its head off, pecking at the grass in search of food.

The giant monstrosity of a chicken that Cas had named Balthazar was lingering by the chicken coop preening its feathers. In between fussing sessions, it raised its head to peer around the yard like some kind of avian sentinel.

He briefly wondered if that was why Cas had the super-sized chicken, to watch over the other chickens and keep them in line. Tearing his eyes away from Balthazar, who was suddenly glaring at him, he scanned his eyes over the rest of the yard.

Flower beds lined the fence around the entire perimeter of the backyard, full of bright black-eyed Susans and goldenrod, pink asters and blue Russian sage. Around the bases of the apple trees, blueberry and blackberry bushes grew.

There was a vegetable garden full of pumpkins and various types of squash along with heads of cabbage and potato leaves. It was encircled by a wire fence, probably to keep the chickens, and the dog, out of the garden.

Further to the right in the yard, parallel to the chicken coop, was a wooden beehive. Dean didn't recognize what it was at first, until he noticed a few bees buzzing around it.

It was built from the same light pine wood as the chicken coop, with a roof a shade or two darker. The similarities between the two structures immediately had Dean wondering if Cas had built both of them himself.

But instead of asking if he had indeed constructed both, he blurted, "Bees?"

"Hmm?" Cas hummed, turning to Dean as he closed the sliding glass door behind Mycroft who padded out onto the porch. The dog promptly clambered up onto the loveseat, barely fitting on the cushions, as Cas walked over to stand beside Dean.

He followed Dean's gaze to the beehive where more bees were skittering out of the hive and making quite literal beelines to the flower beds. From what Dean could tell, they seemed incredibly fond of the goldenrod.

"Oh, yes," Cas intoned from his new spot beside Dean, drawing the other man's attention. Smiling in the direction of the beehive, he elaborated, "Beekeeping is one of my hobbies."

"Along with raising chickens and giant dogs?" Dean teased, elbowing Cas in the side. "Oh, and gardening?"

"Yeah," Cas agreed, nodding to himself as he looked down at his mug. He let out a low chuckle before tacking on, "Amongst many other things."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked, raising a brow. He nudged Cas with his elbow again. "Real jack of all trades, huh?"

"And master of none," Cas returned easily, lifting his head to smile softly at Dean. As he ran a hand through his hair, his smile widened into an even brighter grin. "But oftentimes better than a master of one."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Dean announced, clapping Cas on the shoulder. He let his hand linger there for awhile, greedily basking in the warmth of Cas' skin that he could feel through the fabric of his shirt.

Cas didn't seem to mind, continuing to sip his coffee without any objections to the prolonged contact. He appeared perfectly content to let Dean touch him so familiarly, not showing any signs of discomfort or disgust.

Dean himself would have been content to just stand there with his hand on Cas' shoulder all day. Unfortunately, Cas had other ideas.

"Oh! I promised to introduce you to the chickens," Cas said, perking up a bit as he set his mug aside on the nearby table. With that, he started down the back steps, paying no mind to the fact that he was still barefoot.

He padded further into the yard, weaving around a throng of brown hens with the easy skill of someone who had experience maneuvering around chickens. Pausing mid-step, he glanced over his shoulder at Dean, prompting, "Aren't you coming?"

Snapping to attention, Dean set his coffee cup down beside Cas' and rushed to follow Cas down the porch steps. He made sure to steer clear of the fluffy white rooster ― Cyrano! That was its name! ― not wanting to give it more reason to fuck up his sleep schedule.

"Cyrano's harmless. I promise," Cas informed him with an amused smile that bordered on smug. Apparently, Dean hadn't been too subtle about avoiding crossing the rooster's path.

"I dunno, man. He's done a number on me lately," Dean countered, sending a dubious look the rooster's way. When he looked back up at Cas, he was met with a clearly guilty frown on the other man's face.

"That's largely my fault, I'm afraid," Cas murmured, voice soft and thick with audible remorse. Ducking his head, he scratched the back of his neck, his handsome face twisted into a wince.

"I keep a rather...irregular sleep schedule," Cas explained. "When I was still working my old job I had to be sure I could wake up for my shift after staying up well past midnight. That's where Cyrano came in."

He glanced up at Dean, flashing a self-effacing smile before dipping his chin again. Staring down at his toes, he continued, "I no longer have to wake so early but I'm afraid Cyrano is rather set in his ways―" he spared another quick look at Dean "―You're the only neighbor close enough to hear him."

Dean flicked his eyes between Cas and Cyrano, between dark hair and pristine white feathers. Stepping over a stray hen, he walked over to Cas' side, setting a hand on his shoulder.

With a gentle squeeze that encouraged Cas to lift his head, Dean shrugged and conceded, "Guess that's a good thing, I guess. I mean, I got to meet you so it's not all bad."

That coaxed a bright smile out of Cas, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. Like something out of a shitty romance novel, Dean found himself lost in that radiant smile.

In the crinkles around those impossibly blue eyes. In the warmth and calmness that seemed to radiate off of him.

Then he found himself getting lost in thoughts of kissing that smile, of tasting those plump pink lips. Of pushing Cas down onto the plush grass beneath their feet and taking him right there.

But he couldn't do that. Couldn't fuck his neighbor and never call back. Couldn't completely screw up their friendly friendship because he was horny and lonely and drawn to Cas.

So, instead, he cleared his throat and inquired, "So... Balthazar, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Balthazar," Cas beamed, tilting his head to look back at the gigantic rooster. Grabbing Dean's wrist, he towed him over to the chicken coop where the avian Goliath was still preening itself. With a wave of his hand, he proudly announced, "Dean, meet Balthazar."

Like a fucking idiot, Dean raised his free hand to wave at the rooster, greeting, "Hey."

Cas chuckled, releasing Dean's wrist so he could lean down and scoop up the giant chicken. It let out an indignant cluck before settling when it looked up to see that it was Cas.

Spinning on his heel, he turned to present the rooster to Dean. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Cas' arms wrapped around a grumpy chicken that looked like it wanted to peck his eyes out. Especially when Cas bent his head to peck the chicken on the side of the head.

"He's a Brahma chicken," Cas announced, letting said chicken rub its head against his cheek. "The largest kind of chicken. I had plans to breed Brahmas...until Balthazar made his preferences known."

"Preferences?" Dean parroted, cocking his head to the side as he squinted at the rooster. What the hell kind of preferences would a rooster have that would prevent Cas from breeding it?

Dean's eyes widened as realization crashed over him like a freezing cold tidal wave. Without thinking, he incredulously blurted, "Oh my god, you have a gay chicken?!"

Cas just beamed at him, looking rather proud. Hugging Balthazar to his chest a little tighter, he confirmed, "Yep."

"That is fantastic," Dean declared before dissolving into near hysterical laughter. Cas launched into his own fit of laughter as he set Balthazar back down with a pat on the back.

They continued laughing like a couple of idiots as they made their way back to the porch, Cas leaning heavily against Dean's side. As they collapsed into the porch chairs, Dean managed to wheeze out a question, "How'd you figure out he's gay?"

"When he kept trying to mate with the other roosters and avoiding all the hens like the plague, I sorta put two and two together," Cas snorted between deep laughs. "So, I figured there'd be no breeding in poor Balthazar's future."

"Is that why you named him Balthazar?" Dean asked, wiping a few tears from the corners of his eyes. "I mean, is your brother…  _ y'know...?" _

_ Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth, _ Dean admonished in his head, belatedly realizing how judgemental his question sounded. He winced, hoping Cas didn't think he was a homophobic asshole.

He didn't have time to clarify that he wasn't judging, he was just curious, as Cas ventured, "Is my brother gay?"

Dean nodded, still feeling like an idiot. Unperturbed, Cas explained, "No. Well, not technically. He's pansexual. One of the only things we have in common besides eye color and the same father."

He paused to take a sip of his coffee, giving Dean time to mull over his words. There was a lot to process there.

One, Cas clearly wasn't offended by Dean's question. He certainly didn't seem upset or defensive, judging by the even tone of his voice.

Two, Cas' brother was pansexual, blue-eyed, and technically his half brother. And his name was Balthazar. All of which was very intriguing.

But the most intriguing, and the most important, thing in Dean's opinion was three, Cas was pansexual. As in, Cas was into dudes. Men. Members of the male gender.

But Dean didn't have too much time to dwell on that. Cas was licking his chapped lips, setting his coffee mug down as he continued, "I named him Balthazar because of his flamboyancy. My brother was a model for quite some time and the attitude seemed to stick."

"I guess that makes sense," Dean replied, nodding to himself as he fiddled with a button on his flannel. Turning back to Cas, he questioned, "So what's the story behind Cyrano's name? Another brother?"

Cas let out a small laugh, ducking his head in that endearingly shy way of his. Laying a hand on Mycroft's head, the dog having hopped off the loveseat and set his head in Cas' lap's in a bid for attention, he claimed, "While I do have plenty of brothers, and sisters, I could have named my chickens after, I went with literary names instead. Cyrano included."

"Big reader, huh?" Dean wondered aloud, glancing at the side table where a stack of books rested. He couldn't make out the titles from where he sat but he could tell the spines were worn, probably a handful of old favorites.

"One has to be in my profession," Cas said, taking another long sip of coffee. When he finished, he held up a hand and corrected himself, "Rather one should be. Anyhow, I suppose it's only polite to introduce the others."

He twisted in his sight to peer through the porch railings at the chickens. A fond smiling tugging at the corner of his lips, he explained, "There are the silkie chickens, the fluffy white ones. Cyrano, Alice, Anais, Rosalind, and Arya. She's the grayish one."

Sure enough, when Dean looked a little closer at the white chickens, silkies apparently, he realized that one of the hens was more gray than white. Its fur looked like it had been splashed with gray and silver watercolors.

"The Rhode Island Reds, the darker brown ones, are Darcy, the rooster, and the hens: Cordelia, Ariadne, Guinevere, and Hermione," Cas continued. "And the Orpingtons are the lighter buff ones. The rooster is Amory and the hens are Galadriel and Jane."

Dean whistled, impressed. He said as much as he turned to Cas, reporting, "That's pretty damn impressive, dude."

Cas just shrugged, dipping his head as his cheeks flushed pink. He opened his mouth to say something when he was rudely cut off by the loud growling of his own stomach.

Dean didn't think it was possible but Cas' cheeks got even pinker.

"Well, that was embarrassing," Cas declared with a self-deprecating laugh. Standing, he nudged Mycroft away and asked Dean, "Would you like some breakfast?"

"I could eat," Dean agreed, snatching up his coffee mug and eagerly following Cas back inside. The dog opted to remain outside.

Cas made a beeline to the refrigerator, opening the door and bending over to start perusing through the contents. His voice was slightly muffled as he announced, "I can make pancakes. Or eggs. Ooh, I think I still have some pie left."

"Pie?" Dean asked immediately, the word erupting out of him like a bullet from a gun. It was an involuntary reaction at that point, an automatic response to the offer of pie.

"Yeah," Cas replied, straightening up and closing the refrigerator door with his hip. He set a half eaten pie on the counter, blueberry by the looks of it. "I've been on a bit of a baking kick for the past month."

Past month? That meant that Cas was probably baking up a storm around the time Dean moved in. Around the time he found a pie on his doorstep.

A blueberry pie. A blueberry pie that he had assumed came from Lisa.

A blueberry pie that had made his day and provided a sweet, homemade treat for him to scarf down after a long day at work. A blueberry pie that had helped make his new house feel more even like a home.

"It was you," he blurted, eloquent as ever. Cas turned around, brows knitting together in blatant confusion. "You're the one who left me that pie."

"Oh," Cas hummed, his expression softening. Sending Dean a bright smile, he nodded, admitting, "I figured a housewarming gift was in order. I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you in person, I had an important meeting I had to go in town."

Rather than simply thank him like a normal person, the pie obsessed part of his brain urged him into asking his next question, "How'd you it so sweet?"

"Honey," Cas replied, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. It took Dean a moment to realize he was pointing out the kitchen window at the beehive. "I cooked the blueberries in some honey before baking them in the pie."

There was something about that, something about the fact that Cas had used his own honey from his own bees to bake Dean his own pie that struck a chord deep within him.

It may have been stupid and reckless and maybe even the worst thing he could possibly do, but Dean closed the distance between him and Cas, raising his hands to cup Cas' stubbled jaw. He took a second to watch the way Cas' eyes widened, the way his pupils dilated as he held his breath in anticipation.

Then, he leaned down and kissed him.

It was just a kiss. Just a soft, gentle, chaste kiss that shouldn't have rocked him to his core as much as it did, and yet Dean could feel a shift, like everything had just changed in the blink of an eye and the touch of two pairs of lips.

Everything else fell away, the faint sound of clucking and the smell of coffee that lingered in the kitchen, until it was just him and Cas. Just their hands and lips on each other as Cas tentatively curled his hands into the fabric of Dean's t-shirt.

For once in his life, Dean had something that took precedence over pie. Namely deepening the kiss by teasing the tip of his tongue over the seam of Cas' lips, the taste of sweetened coffee bursting over his tongue.

Cas didn't seem to have any objections, eagerly parting his lips. He tightened his grip on Dean's shirt as he gingerly moved his lips against Dean's, almost shy.

All that shyness, that whisper of hesitancy, vanished entirely when Dean dropped one of his hands to snake his arm around Cas' waist, tugging him close and crushing their bodies together. Cas' kiss turned deeper, hungry, greedy.

Dean had no arguments about that, backing Cas up until the backs of his legs hit the arm of the couch. But Dean wasn't done there, he gently nudged Cas until he fell over the arm of the couch, landing on his back on the couch cushions with a soft sound of surprise.

Dean took full advantage, climbing on top of Cas with his knees on either side of Cas' hips. He leaned down to capture Cas' lips again, bracing himself on his forearms.

Cas ― gorgeous, greedy, no longer shy Cas ― grabbed the lapels of Dean's flannel, shoving it off his shoulders and down his arms until Dean had to reach back and yank it the rest of the way off. To show his appreciation, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and pulled him down into another frenzied kiss.

Emboldened, drunk on the taste of Cas' lips, parted his knees, lowering his hips until he could rock them against Cas. The hard line of Cas' dick pressed against Dean's as the latter ground their hips together, licking into his mouth with wild abandon.

Dean probably would have fucked Cas right there on the couch if it hadn't been for the firm hand on his chest and the soft noise of dissent he made. Straightening up, hands on Cas' thighs, Dean took a moment to catch his breath.

Sitting up himself, Cas leaned in to press a reassuring kiss to Dean's, silently informing him that he hadn't changed his mind. Pulling back, just as breathless as Dean, he suggested, "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom," Dean agreed. He stood, helping Cas up like a gentleman before swooping in for a deep kiss full of promise.

Cas reached for Dean's hand, intertwining their fingers as he started tugging him down the hall. Dean stopped him with a quick kiss, murmuring against his lips, "Just need a sec. How bout you go get comfy?"

Cas nodded eagerly, pecking Dean on the lips before turning and starting down the hall. Dean adjusted himself in his jeans, praying to whatever god would listen that he didn't end up coming embarrassingly fast.

He figured only the intervention of another cosmic entity, maybe an angel or something, could help him with his next problem. Jogging over to sliding glass door that Cas had left open, he poked his head outside.

He scanned his eyes over the yard until he found Cyrano, looking rather friendly with Balthazar. Staring directly at the chicken, he pleaded, "Please be quiet."

With that, he turned and hurried back inside. Cas was waiting for him and he would be damned if he made him wait any longer than necessary. Regardless of any noisy roosters.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated! You can find me on Tumblr [here,](www.hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com) maybe send me a prompt or two!


End file.
